


Of Equanimity and Violence

by JackalopeTrope



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-09-06 00:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16821331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackalopeTrope/pseuds/JackalopeTrope
Summary: If anything, everything that happened in Paris has made Eve even better at what she does.





	1. Return With The Elixir

If you'd taken the time to try and anticipate how it would feel telling Carolyn about Paris, you'd probably have guessed you'd be more stressed than you are. She ambushed you and Elena in the shabby office she had told you to start tearing down, god, was it yesterday? That can't be right. But she no longer intimidates you, not while your hand can still feel the ghost of a knife. You keep opening and closing your fingers around nothing as you tell her and Elena a very brief version of events. "I stabbed her. Then she escaped. Now I'm here."

Carolyn actually registers some surprise on her face and says nothing for a moment. "Hmm, well."

She walks over to the box that Elena has been packing up and sifts through the topmost papers. Picks a picture of Victor Kedrin, carries it to the empty cork board and pins it back up. "On second thought Elena why don't you hold off on shutting everything down. Kenny will return to work tomorrow. In the meantime, Eve, you will report to Elena and our number one priority here is to anticipate their next target. More realisticly we will have to identify the markers of their new primary agent, as their current one is apparently out of commision."

Elena looks back and forth between you and Carolyn, flabbergasted. "You want to continue, but with me in charge?" And a little pleased. But you don't blame her.

"I think perhaps there is still some work to be done here. For now." She looks at you then. "That being said, I admire your passion Eve, but any more excursions into my personal business, and I'm not sure where you _could_ find work."

Well. "Of course." Shit.

She turns her attention back to the box. "But for right now, why don't you go home. I don't want to see you here for a few days." Maybe you are still a little intimidated because you feel like you can breathe again. "Elena I'll help you unpack. Let's start with these records, then move on to the financial listings." Carolyn begins working in earnest with Elena quickly following suit, and that's as much as a dismissal as you are going to get you suppose.

\---------------

Standing outside your home you can admit to yourself that you had returned to the office first for less-than-professional reasons. You had been hoping to be distracted by packing boxes and Elena's endless diatribes and maybe even a drink afterwards and who knows how long you could have reasonably put this off. But you were hoping it was going to be a bit longer.

Your key still works. So there is that.

You are somehow more exhausted once you walk through the door, as if being in your long-time home has let you feel exactly how tired you should have been feeling all along. You let your bag fall to the floor and can hear the sounds of pans clinking and water running. Shouldn't you be relieved? As guilty as you are in all this, you were kind of relying on that release of tension, anticipating it. But the release doesn't come. You rub a hand into your hair and put one foot in front of the other.

Niko is standing at the sink washing a large sauce pan when you enter the kitchen. He always took more time and care with this responsibility than you did. You watch him wash it, grateful for the delay. You are not sure what you are going to say to him. When finishes with the pan he sets it to dry on the rack, turns around and leans back against the counter. He doesn't look angry, but he doesn't look very happy to see you. "You look like shit."

And you don't know what to say to that, or anything. So you just shrug and rub at your face with your hand.

If he is disappointed by your lack of response he doesn't show it. "There is a pie in the oven. The heat is on low, just to warm, but don't forget to turn it off." He turns around again to face the counter. "There are also two pies in the freezer." He starts to wipe the counter then seems to think better of it.

"Okay." Your voice is rough, nearly a bark. He looks a little startled, then his face is passive again.

"I'm going to go now." He stands there a moment, looking at you, then walks up to you and kisses you on the forehead. You close your eyes and try to feel what you should for this man. One last time. "Goodbye Eve."

Then he walks past you and out of the kitchen. And you open your eyes now, because you have to see this. Because this is happening. Niko is picking up a suitcase, his suitcase. It was sitting in the hall. You hadn't noticed. He walks down the hall, out of sight. And you hear the door open and you hear the door close and you are crying. You are crying, and you can't move, and you can't think and for a second you can't breathe. But then suddenly you can. And then amazingly feel that release of tension. That relief you had been waiting for. Well.

It isn't until you are laying in bed that you can finally start to think though. You had been on autopilot, turning off the oven, dragging your luggage upstairs, and in the shower you had scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. And now you feel a little more alive. A little more like a person and you can think. You can think about how Niko leaving is more of a relief than anything. You can think about the prospect of living in this house alone and what happens when the pies are gone. You can think about your job you didn't think you'd have, and what Carolyn could possibly be thinking, and how Elena didn't look at you when you left. 

But thinking about all that doesn't actually take very long because your train of thought is on a collision course with Villanelle. With the memory of her. Because there is so much more than there was before. It is all so visceral and right there at the surface when you reach for it. What her fingers feel like brushing your face. What her blood feels like on your hands. How solid her body feels beneath you. And this will take longer to work through than the pies, and the job, and all the sudden you are very tired all over again. You fall asleep with wet hair and a cooling pie in the oven and nothing on your mind but Villanelle.

\---------------

You ride the same bus to work as before. And your commute meditations haven't changed much either. You've had time to think it over, and you've decided that Oksana is not dead. There is no evidence except that you have become very much an expert on this woman and you are sure she is not dead. Sure as anything. So you spend your daily commute mulling over what would have to have happened for that to be the case. What kind of help she would have needed and for how long. Where she might be now, and in what state, and was she thinking of you too? Your bus ride is relatively short, but you allow yourself this every day, twice a day.

However, once you arrive at work, you decidely refuse to think of Oksana. You set your mind on "Unknown Agent", who hasn't earned a name and you aren't keen on giving them one. They exist but they haven't got her style. But your board is full again, with different targets, different locations. And you can't help but compare this body of work to hers. It lacks inspiration. It lacks the creativity and skill you would expect. From her. But you aren't thinking about her.

Even without that spark the work isn't drudgery. You still nurse a grim fascination with death and those that deal it. Your were always more interested in female killers, and while this doesn't feel like one, you can't help but worry over every detail in every report, because you feel a little closer to it now. You can imagine the pressure it would take. You can close your eyes and concentrate and feel it. How would your arm have had to move? Where would your body have had to be?

"Hey look I brought you a croissant. And some photos of that knife wound you are obsessing over." Elena waves the croissant tauntingly above you. "Now by taking this you agree to arrange the translation of those audio bits. I really really hate that slimy fuck of a resource." Elena being in charge might be the best thing that has happened to you professionally. She overcompensates with pastry and let's you do field work with very little questioning.

"Oh my god, fucking worth it. I haven't eaten in ages." You grab the croissant and let her set a photo in front of you. She then sets the rest in a neat stack next to another neat stack of papers nearby and leaves you to it. She looks at you a little differently now, a little in awe. A little in fear. Maybe because you stabbed someone. Maybe because you don't seem to be bothered by that very much.

It does bother you though. When you let it. You just don't let yourself think about her, and those things. You think about your job and this photo and oh! the entry wound was in the side in this one. A bit different than what you know. What you remember. But not so different. And you remember a lot. You remember the gentle weight in your hand and the disbelief in her eyes. You remember the thrust, how you'd put your anger behind it, afraid you wouldn't hurt her like you needed. Afraid you wouldn't have the leverage from so close. Because you were so close. You remember how little resistance you felt, how easy it was to bury it, how fast. How you were all the sudden on top of her and could see how much it had disappeared into the center of her. But. This wound was from the side. You wipe your hand on your sleeve when you finish the croissant and reach for the rest of the photos.

And when you step off the bus at the end of the day, full of fresh commute ruminations, you shut that down too. You walk in the door, into your empty house, and you are definitely not thinking about her. You are definitely not thinking about her when you turn the lock and glance down the long hallway, where she stood once, telling you not to run. You don't think of her when you set your bag down and walk past the kitchen, where you once fed her shepard's pie and threatened to kill the thing she loved. It's so easy not to remember running up these steps, away from her and takes no effort at all to clear your mind of her while you relax in the bath. The one she pinned you down in, where she asked to have dinner with you.

And your mind is blessedly blank as you adjust your pillow and reach over to switch off the bedside lamp. Because, in the dark, it might be _hard_ to remember that this is your bed. And not another. That you are laying alone and not laying next to her. That you are curling your fingers and clenching your fist around nothing and there is no one here at all.


	2. With Reckless Abandon

Carolyn visits the office less often than before, but when she does she always brings an interesting twist of information. Some tidbit that tilts your work on it's axis. Sometimes she's there when you arrive in the morning and stays for the day, usually to work through whatever new lead she has pinned up on the wall. Sometimes she finds you late a night, still hunched over your desk, and she takes a chair next to you and speaks in hushed tones, outlining contradiction after contradiction. Things we thought we knew but we didn't. Things we can't know officially, but we _must_ work under the assumption. And without hesitation you recipricate. You don't really trust her, and she probably doesn't trust you. But she is no longer standing between you and something you want. So you always have something new for her. Whether by going to places you really shouldn't be going, or talking to people you really shouldn't be talking to, you always have something. You are reckless in your pursuit.

So it should be no surprise really, when she walks in one day with an announcement. She's just gotten word. You have become a person of interest to the organization you have been investigating and you will need to abscond to a safehouse. Immediately. "Nothing we haven't been expecting. A reasonable response to your visibility as of late." Carolyn seems unduly calm. 

"What the fuck Carolyn?!" Elena's response is far more appropriate. "Got word from where? Oh my god." You can see that she is shaking as she sits down in her chair with her head in her hands.

Carolyn is perpetually unaffected. "We will discuss this when we have a better moment. Eve we should go now I think." 

So you grab your pre-packed travel bag from under your desk. You squeeze Elena's arm when you pass her and she looks up at you. "Don't you fucking die." The _too_ goes unsaid.

You are climbing into a car when you realize Oksana must have never told anyone about what you did. That in all probability Carolyn is right about why you have been targeted now. You have been in very public places with some very bad people. You have been getting too much information from them and not giving back enough. But three months ago you caused grievous bodily harm to a favored asset. And that should have put a target on your back.

You are struggling to find the other end of the seatbelt buckle when Carolyn clears her throat. She is still holding the door open, the one you just climbed through. "Two guards will be posted, you'll be in a relatively remote location. I'm sure this is all familiar to you."

"Um. You're not coming? But-"

"Let me see your phone." She holds out her hand. You let go of the belt in your hand and rustle in your coat pocket. You don't feel it for a second and have a moment of panic, but, there it is. You have to lean over to place it in her hand. She shuts it down, removes the SIM card with practiced ease and pockets it. "You will be given a new one. We have a contact on location to get you up to speed with the situation."

"Where am I going?"

"You will continue your work, in a slightly altered capacity, remotely. I will contact you with more details when we get them." Carolyn is very good at relaying absolutely no information in however many words. But there are things you need to know.

"Are Elena and Kenny safe?"

"You won't be able to contact them for awhile." Then she nods to the driver who seems to have been waiting for this and she shuts the door.

\---------------

You hate not knowing things. You hate being in the dark, you hate it with such a passion. It serves you well in your work. But right now it is just making you boil with anger you don't know what to do with. Carolyn is full of shit. She is always full of shit, but today that involves you abandoning your home and your work and sitting in a car for god knows how long. Or, apparently you haven't abandoned your work. You are supposed to continue your work from whatever little shithole Carolyn is sticking you in. Though how you can do that without Elena or Kenny you aren't sure.

You remember that this used to be your job, arranging this sort of thing. Armed guards and a place where no one would think to look. You think of Frank and you think of Kasia and for the first time you are a little relieved it isn't Oksana after you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

\---------------

Two armed guards walk you to the porch of a very nice house. One opens the door for you and you step into a small sitting room flooded with natural light. It's much nicer inside than any safehouse you can remember, with plush rugs and hardwood floors. Even the furniture is posh. There is a set of four very expensive looking leather chesterfield chairs arranged around a coffee table. There is a man sitting in one of the chairs.

"Hello Eve Polastri."

"What the fuck." And what the actual fuck. It is Konstantin Vasiliev sitting in the chair. He is hunched over with a phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

"It is so nice to see you! I've been looking at your new phone, it is very nice." He waves the phone at you and sips his drink. "Much nicer than mine. I think I need to do something about this." You turn around intent on heading for the door. Because Carolyn can explain this, for once. She can explain what the hell is going on. "Don't go just yet Eve. I have a lot to go over with you. I am here to help. To help smooth your transition into your... new role."

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here? Are you supposed to be working for British intelligence now? Actually, you know what? I honestly don't care. Carolyn can get another of her ex-boyfriends to deliver me a phone because I am not talking to you. I am not working with you."

"Ah _ha_! You are a slippery one Eve! You are! I like it. You are very smart so I won't try and lie to you." You scoff very loudly at this and roll your eyes. "It's true! I will tell you everything. Please sit down. Please." He gestures to the chair across from him.

You have a strong desire to flip him off and leave the way you came. But you have an equally strong desire to sit and listen, so you approach the offered chair. He probably knows more about what is going on than you do. You are sure he doesn't plan on sharing anything close to the truth, but you think he might let some slip anyways. You've become quite good at getting information from people who had no intention of giving any. You can always flip him off and leave after.

"Tell me about this role."

"After you returned from Paris we thought you might become useful to us in certain ways. So in the meantime we had you, what is the phrase? Chase some wild geese?"

"A wild goose chase."

"Yes! But you surprised us and you found your goose. Oh ho! You found a lot for us in a very little time. You are very good at what you do, Eve Polastri. It is a shame to take you away from your little team."

You wave your hand in front of you in a violent gesture. "Why do it then? Why all this cloak and dagger bullshit?" 

"Well for one, I needed to lay low for awhile. Negotiate a new position for myself with people I could trust. I have a particular set of skills Eve. I recruit and I manage high quality assets who are rarely content with just money and a bit of agency. I want to bring one such asset into the fold, but it requires some finesse."

"You cannot honestly expect me to believe you want _me_ to help _you_ recruit an assassin. I don't even know who you work for."

He seems to consider that for a second. "Y'know, Villanelle was very good at her job, before you poked your nose into things." He waggles a finger at you like he is admonishing a child. "I tell her to sit, and she stands. I tell her to shoot, she stabs." His arms gesturing back and forth with each complaint, a look of amusement on his face. But then he becomes somewhat serious. "I tell her to watch and to listen, and she taunts and she stabs your friend in a nightclub." Then he takes a long drink. "You can imagine how troublesome this might be."

"Do really think I care how hard it was for you? Are you serious? Why am I here?"

"If you would listen I have been explaining. She wouldn't come just because I say. Even though it is in her best interests. As I have been telling you, she hasn't been doing as I say for some time."

You feel all the anger drain out of you, all the fight. "Who?" 

A smile flickers on his face. "She has a somewhat unique pre-requisite for her employment with us. She was very adamant. You must be her handler."

"Villanelle."

"Carolyn and I have discussed it, and we've decided that this could work for us. We think Villanelle will resume her work, because Villanelle loves her work. So what if she wants you to deliver the information to her? We all win."

"What if she wants to kill me?"

"Oh she probably does! I think she also wants to have sex with you." And oh _fuck_. It is not a new thought but you lose your breath all the same. "Ha! Why is that more troublesome than the killing?" And he is laughing again and you are very tired of him laughing. "Do not worry so much. You are under no obligation. To die _or_ to have sex, just to be clear. I do not know what Villanelle has in mind. It will be your job to figure that out and find a way to keep her content and doing her job. We think you will be good at this."

"You know I stabbed her right?"

"Yes. Very naughty of you. But here we are. She won't work without you. She is very angry with me. I'm not one to turn down an opportunity for my life to be a little easier, you know?"

"What makes you think I won't do it again? Or that I will even agree to this?"

"You don't want to stab her. And we will pay you. And keep you safe. At least from your new friends who are trying to kill you. And from Villanelle if you are smart."

You are distracted by the reminder that what you are considering involves working with someone who might be actively trying to kill you. Then you go over that again in your head again. "Wait so I'm really being targeted? I thought when you said- I thought that was a bullshit excuse to get me here."

"No you really are!" Konstantin laughs, "Extremely inconvenient. You are just as bad as her in some ways, very annoying. But you will do this I think. I can see on your face you want to."

And you do, god help you. "I- Okay. I'll do it. Where is she?"

"Okay!", he says, smacking his hands together in delight. "We can work out the details once you are settled in." He pushes himself up from the chair with some effort and a grumble. "Try not to get shot Eve. It makes you tired after every little thing. Okay. Grab your bag. We need to be upstairs for this next part."

"What's upstairs?"

"Villanelle is upstairs."


	3. Will You Walk Into My Parlour?

"Villanelle is upstairs."

"Nooo." The word is drawn out in a playful mocking tone. "Villanelle was in the kitchen." And there she is, in the doorway to your left. Alive and looking as if you hadn't just stabbed her a few months before. "Because she got bored eavesdropping on your little secret conversation and wanted a snack." She lifts the wrap in her hand at this and takes a big bite.

Konstantin's eyes are bright. "I did not hear you come down. You have gotten more subtle!" He sounds genuinely happy to have been snuck up on by an assassin.

"And you have gotten fatter." She gestures outwards from her stomach with both hands and blows up her already full mouth in a mockery of a waddling fat man. "You should pay more attention to what you eat. You will crush your fat wife and die. And what would Irina do then, hmm?" She swallows her mouthful of food and shoves the rest of her wrap at Konstantin, who huffs but accepts it.

Then she gets much too close and directs her laser like focus on you. "Eve you look beautiful." She lowers her voice and if Konstantin weren't _right here_ only you would hear her. "Come with me upstairs. There is a very big, very comfy couch. We can get re-acquainted." She wiggles her eyebrows.

"Be good Villanelle. There is a job. And since now we have met all of your terms we are expecting you to begin your work. You are looking very healthy."

She turns to him looking affronted. "I am looking _fantastic_." She gestures to herself as if her magnificence is obvious. And you take this moment to boggle, because. When you've imagined seeing her again, this ensemble is nothing like what you'd had in mind. Big black rubber rain boots. Knee length cut-off jean shorts. Tartan twill blazer. "You can go now Konstantin." All the playfulness is gone from her tone and you are reminded that she could kill you. She might chase you up the stairs and murder you with her big rubber boots.

Konstantin is undeterred. "There is a timetable for this job."

Villanelle blows out an impatient breath. "Yes. You've already said this. And Eve will contact you with how things are progressing. That is how it will work now, correct? So you can go now." She grabs the phone from his hand and starts ushering him past you towards the front door. "I can explain everything. Your job is not so complicated you know. And Eve is very smart. So you can go."

He is nearly at the door when you decide to feel panic. You don't like Konstantin but if he leaves... you will be alone with Villanelle. And while that thought is tantalizing it is also terrifying. You want to pull apart every aspect of her and turn it around in your hands, but you don't want to _die_.

Before she can get him through the threshold he turns. He points and pokes her, right where her stab wound should be. "Do not kill her." And she is making an incredulous face and pushing him away and rubbing the spot as if it is still tender. "And do not let her stab you again." Villanelles raises both eyebrows at this and looks at you with a smile as if you have a little in joke. Then she looks back to Konstantin and seems to sober.

"I will not kill her. But we need privacy. We will work very hard for you Konstantin. You will be proud." And this must mean something to Konstantin because he seems to relax. He looks at you then.

"Good luck Eve Polastri."

Then he steps outside.

Villanelle closes the door and locks it. And stands there, listening at the door for nearly a full minute. Then she nods her head once, removes her ridiculous boots and sets them next to the door.

"Much better." She approaches you slowly, walking on bare feet across the hard wood floor. "Here let me help you." You startle a bit when she takes your bag from your hands. "Let's go upstairs. I have opened a bottle of wine. You will like it. It will help you relax." And she is walking away from you. Through a doorway which you assume leads to a staircase. She pauses a moment to give you a look you can't decipher. Then she is out of sight.

\---------------

You are full of nervous energy but you wait a few moments before following her. Not long enough to start thinking about, well anything. Just long enough so when you mount the stairs she isn't on them anymore. When you reach the landing you find Villanelle laying across a very luxurious looking couch. She's got her head propped on an armrest, the phone in both hands. The couch is somewhat strangely positioned in the landing, in the center of a crossroads between three rooms whose doors are currently shut.

You notice your overnight bag on the ground not far from you. Half open, on it's side, carelessly cast aside. "Nice." This catches Villanelle's attention. She gives you a sly look then sits upright and shimmies her way to the middle cushion. She pats and rubs the seat next to her in a rather exaggerated come-hither motion.

It is so absurd you want to laugh. But. "Yeah. No. Absolutely not." You are the definition of off-kilter, and you know you are on an impressive streak of bad decisions, but you need to keep at least some distance from the psychopath who might want to murder you.

"No?" And she is all doe-eyed and honey-sweet.

But shit. You look around, and the only two pieces of furniture in the goddamn room are the couch and table in front of it. And you look at her and she clearly knows this.

But oh, fuck. her.

You approach and she is excited for a moment until you use your leg to shove the coffee table a few more inches away from the couch. You do this very carefully because there are two very full glasses of red wine on the table but you manage to not spill anything. You sit down on the coffee table, right in front of her. Your knees are close to touching hers and you could have probably negotiated more space between you on the couch, but you are making a point. Or something. You pick up one of the glasses and take a very long sip.

She frowns at you for a moment then rolls her eyes. "Okaaaay. So, you have two new contacts in your phone. Konstantin. And me. This one" She gestures towards the new entry she is making. "I'm putting myself as a favorite. Speed dial. You can choose the ring tone." She leans forward to set the phone on the table and grabs the remaining glass of wine for herself, needlessly invading your personal space for a moment. "You will be calling Konstantin soon. To update him. He doesn't think I will tell you all of what you need to know, so be impressive. It will annoy him." She wiggles in her seat in amusement.

Well. In to the deep end you suppose. "Okay. So how does this work?"

She nods her head at you in encouragement. "Yes. Okay. Konstantin will contact you with a job. A target and parameters. Then we", and here she gestures at the two of you. "We will decide how it needs to be done."

"We?"

She takes a comically large gulp from her glass. It fills her cheeks and she nods emphatically. Then she swallows and smacks her lips. "It is important to my new employer that I operate within certain boundaries." She shrugs and sighs at this. "So we will agree how that should happen."

"What do you mean?"

"You and I will work together to decide when and how I should execute my targets." She takes a sip from her glass then sets it down on the floor. "Sometimes surprises happen and circumstances require improvisation. Which, okay, that can be exciting." Then she huffs, "But that usually ends with something simple and _boring_ , like a gun or a knife." She lets herself fall backwards into the couch, petulantly sticks out her lower lip. "Konstantin preferred simple."

You consider that. It makes sense, yet Villanelle had been using 'creative solutions' for such a lengthy amount of time. You had assumed it was either directed or outright celebrated. "But you don't like simple." That much you know.

"What do I like Eve?" She is staring at the ceiling, her head resting against the back of the couch. You can't see her face but you recognize the tone. It takes you back to a kitchen table. Shepard's pie. A prison record. _What does it say._

You close your eyes and find it easier to breathe. "You like to shock people. In ways that show you are cunning. Your work is lurid, sometimes. But always artful. You can be meticulous or you can be reckless, but you always have style." You know you sound entranced, but you can't find it in yourself to care. She has always entranced you.

When you open your eyes Villanelle is watching you, her face unreadable. "I want to show you."

"Show me what?"

She leans forward then and her voice becomes almost reverent. "What I am doing. Where I am going. What I feel when I kill someone."

And oh, all your breath leaves you for a moment. This is what haunts your dreams and consumes you. To Anna, who dreamed of Paris, she gave expensive French perfumes and clothes. To you she offers answers and mysteries wrapped up into one. Danger and secrets and violent intimacy. 

She takes your glass from you and sets it on the ground next to hers. She is all business again. "I will have things that I will want to do, but I think we can work it out together." 

It all sounds so unreal, and you want to know why. Why all this? The response you expected was retaliation. Maybe not something as frenzied as rage. Not after all this time. But to you that meant what was left was a calculated revenge. You think that somehow that must be what is happening, you just don't know the shape of it yet. So what _do_ you know?

"You want me to tell you how to kill your targets?"

"Yes. Sometimes."

"And sometimes you want to decide how? But with my permission?"

"Yes. I want to tell you. How I will do it. Then after, how it felt."


	4. Through The Looking Glass

It's two weeks later when the real fun begins. You are still hole up in the snazzy safe-house and you haven't seen or heard from Villanelle since her abrupt departure the day you arrived. But Konstantin had phoned that night. He laughed at her leaving you in the lurch and gave you much more useful information. Like how you will be receiving your assignments. How you will provide your _asset_ with the resources they need.  
  
"And Eve. If you ever find yourself in trouble. Cut and run. She will do the same."  
  
You don't need telling, you think. But maybe he is worried about your motivations here.  
  
So two weeks after that conversation you are sitting in the same chair where you found Konstantin, reading through some old magazines you found, when one of your posted guards comes in through the front door. You get up, dropping the magazine on the chair. A package has arrived for you.  
  
You take it in to the kitchen, set it on the table, and study it.  
  
The package is unmarked. No postage, no return address. But inside you know you will find a passport with your face but not your name, a laptop, and an envelope full of cash. There will also be two guns. One for you, and one for Villanelle.  
  
And a postcard.  
  
Konstantin told you all of this over the phone.

You take a knife from a drawer and cut the box open. Inside you see some neatly wrapped paper packages. On top of these is a note tied to an expensive bottle of whiskey. You gently remove the bottle and the note.

 _For luck. -Konstantin_  
  
\--------------  
  
You decide you want to go over everything by yourself first, so you bring the box up to your bedroom. You think when Villanelle returns, it won't be through your bedroom window. You think.

You sit down at your small writing desk, switch on the lamp.  
  
There are four paper packages of various size and a nice new laptop underneath them all. You arrange the packages on the desk and begin to unwrap them.

You open the smallest ones first, and much as you had guessed they contain the two hand-guns. You throw the wrappings in the bin and set the fire-arms onto the desk very gently.

The next package you unwrap is a bit larger, has a bit of heft. You unfold the paper to find a large envelope tied to a hardback book with twine. You slide the envelope out and peek in. The passport and the money. You tuck this safely in a drawer and turn your attention to the book.

It is very worn and has no title on the front or on the spine. When you open the cover it feels like it might fall apart. On the title page in large print it says: "The Beauty of the Ancient World, and the Allure of the Orient". You guess it is an old travel book? You flip through the pages. There are occasional lines underlined and notes in the margins, but none of them really make sense. You continue flipping through and a note falls out. It's in Konstantin's handwriting.

_Keep this safe._

You flip the the note over, but no, there is no more information. You slip the note between the pages and set the book on the desk.

There is still one more package, slightly larger and bulkier than the others. You bring it into your lap and unfold it. Inside is a beautiful navy peacoat. It is made of heavy wool and reminds you a bit of Konstantin himself. You search the pockets and the paper and there is nothing, no note or explanation. You stand and step back from the desk, giving yourself a little space to try it on. It's warm and soft and a little big on you.

But where is the postcard?

Well there is one thing left. You sit back down in the chair and lift the laptop onto the desk. You lift its lid and taped to the screen is a postcard. Aha.You press the power button, and as the laptop boots up you gently remove the postcard from the screen and the tape from the postcard.

On it's front is a familiar and beautiful city-scape lit up at dusk. Prague.

On the back a short note is scrawled in unknown handwriting: _Excited to see you!_

Once the computer finishes booting there are a few layers of credentials for you to enter then you are greeted with a mundane looking desktop. You double-click on the web browser and very carefully enter the long digits printed on the postcard into the address bar, prefixed with the domain Konstantin had given you. Your screen fills with pictures of a man you don't recognize.

A man you are expected to kill, or make sure is killed, by Villanelle.

You close your eyes. You take a very large breath and hold it in. You only open your eyes when let it out again.

You begin to read.  
  
\---------------  
  
Your target is David Hajek, the Technical Director of a small financial firm specializing in long-term prediction algorithms and hedge-fund management. Google tells you that a position like that might entail making hardware or software decisions for a company, or directing the use of assets to deliver products or services in tech fields.

You don't know who he is, but you can hear Elena's voice in your mind: "A man with power who works with people with money? No surprise he made it onto someone's shit list." You laugh to yourself.

David's position as director is a recent promotion, but an unsuprising move from his long-time work as a lead engineer for the company, or so says a small article in a Czech business magazine you found online.

You don't know what will and won't be relevant, and he doesn't seem to have done anything interesting his entire life, but you find yourself incredibly fascinated by the smallest of details.

On his employee profile it mentions where he went to school, most recently for his Masters, the University of Economics in Prague. And that takes you down a rabbit hole as you look up pictures of the campuses and the course listings for the years he would have been there, and the professors who might have taught him.

You find out when he broke things off with his long-time girlfriend, Nela. About three months ago, right before the promotion. He was really broken up about it and had posted about it at length on some very public social media outlets.

You've been going over every facet of David Hajek's life for a few hours when you begin to get frustrated. It's just, too easy. You run both your hands through your hair, rub your face. You are so accustomed to information gotten through effort and intrigue that this feels like shooting fish in a barrel. So-to-speak.

And something begins to crystallize in your mind. 

You shut the laptop lid and head downstairs in search of the fancy whiskey.

\---------------  
  
You find an appropriate glass in a kitchen cabinet. You rinse the dust from it, and standing at the counter, you pour yourself a finger. You take a sip and it is like a campfire in your mouth. You aren't usually one for peat, but you need the kick right now. You pour yourself a more generous portion and make your way back into living room. You shove the abandoned magazine from the chair and take a seat and wait.

You are still lounging in the chair, nursing your drink when the front door bursts open. It's Villanelle in a bright floral maxi dress. Her hair is falling out of a messy bun, her face is sun-kissed, and her arms are loaded with shopping bags.

"Where have you been?"  
  
"Zurich." She juggles with the bags for a moment before letting them all fall to the floor dramatically. "I had a quick engagement to take care of before our work together could begin. A fat banker with shitty taste in clothes. I slit his throat." She looks up at you and smiles.

You're a little blown-away at how soft and safe she can appear. How disarming her beauty is, how she can smile so bright as she says this. She doesn't seem put off by your lack of response and is in front of you in a few short strides. She bends down and takes the glass from your hand while you are still recovering from her proximity.

"But you already knew this?" She takes a sip and looks at you with her eyebrows raised in question.  
  
You swallow the lump in your throat.

"Well. Yes Konstantin told me some of that. I just wanted to see if you would tell me."  
  
"Mmm." She seems to approve of the drink and takes it with her when she plops in the chair across from you. "But then I was in Palermo."  
  
"Italy?"  
  
"Mhmm. Zurich was so cold and wet. I wanted some sun. And you weren't ready for me." She seems to take in your clothes for the first time and snorts. "Oh my. Eve. You know taking Konstantin's job does not mean you have to take his clothes."

And you look down at yourself, at the new wool jacket. You roll your eyes. "Oh piss off."

And this just makes her smile wider.

"Do you have a postcard for me somewhere in those pockets?" Her tone is flippant but her eyes are seeking, full of want.

You suddenly remember this is it, this is what your job is now. Not only that, but you are in a sort of position of power over Villanelle. You've been so nervous at the prospect of your death, or someone else's, that you really haven't felt it before. It is kind of a heady feeling. 

"No." You say it just to see her frown, and you are not disappointed. "But I do have one."

She leans back and closes her eyes and smiles. "Oh good." She reaches behind her head to her bun and pulls it apart. She is disentangling the knots with her hand when she looks at you again. "Tell me about it."

So you do.  
  
\---------------  
  
You both move to the kitchen eventually. Villanelle has taken a large metal mixing bowl out of a cupboard and is putting together a salad. You have retaken your glass of whiskey, refreshed it, and claimed a seat at the kitchen counter.

"You have a two week window. Is that the norm?"

"Oh it varies wildly." She is expertly slicing a cucumber on a cutting board just in front of you. Freshly bought and delivered by your armed caretakers during their weekly grocery run. "Sometimes I have a month. Sometimes a day." She pops a slice in her mouth and crunches it loudly.

"I uh, also have a gun for you."

She is still munching on the cucumber when she puts down the knife. Then she swallows her bite. "Is that how you want me to kill him?" Her tone is serious.

You had been dreading this question the whole time she was gone. This is your best guess at how this can be her revenge, making you an accomplice, someone just as culpable. How was she hoping you'd react? Distress? Hesitation? You decide to be calm.

"No."

Villanelle looks relieved. "No? Good. Any ideas then?" She is all casual, as if she is asking what you'd like for dinner.

"No. Not an idea. I have a plan."

A look of pure content washes over her. "Oh." She swallows. "Beautiful."


	5. Would-be Perdition

The next few days are horrendous. You think you may want to kill her.

Villanelle is staying in the room across from yours and she has no sense of personal space. There is always a reason she needs to be in the bathroom if you are in the bath, doing your make-up, washing your hands. She barges into your bedroom every night after you've gone to bed.

You are no longer frightened that she will kill you if you have the time and the space to think about it. But when she is barging into your room in the middle of the night, brandishing a large kitchen knife and yelling...

"EVE!"

The door slams hard against the wall. Villanelle is manic and terrifying and covered in flour.

"What the fuck! Jesus!"

She doesn’t leave the doorway, but she mock-whispers. "Eve. Would you like some cake?" She whips her weaponless hand out from behind her and she’s brought a plate of something chocolate.

"Fucking FUCK. You are out of your GODDAMN MIND."

"Oh were you sleeping?” She briefly covers her mouth with her knife hand in a pantomime of surprise. “I will save you a piece."

She is doing this on purpose and you are going to die of a heart attack. She won't leave you alone.

But she won't focus either. When you aren't bathing or eating or sleeping you are trying to drill information into her and pry information out of her and as much as she won't let you alone, she rarely decides to help in any meaningful way.

When you sit on the ground across from her, crouched over the stupid coffee table, pouring over notes, this is when she is the _least_ helpful.

"Did you go over this? I need to know which window-"

"You are too tense, we have so much time. Pass me the wine."

You do pass her the wine, but only because sometimes she lets useful information slip if she has a few glasses and wants to pretend to be tipsy. She also gets a little handsy. You think she’s full of shit.

"We don't have time. We have _no_ time."

You pour yourself some too. Because you actually have no idea how much time you need. Or which fucking window works best.

"Do not worry so much. I have done this before you know."

"Well I haven't. I need to know Villanelle."

She leans all the way across the table towards you, whispers in your ear. "Baby, I will tell you everything." And you swat her away, rolling your eyes.

"Don't call me baby."

"What should I call you then? Hmm?"

"Don't call me anything. Show me the window, which window." You are jamming your finger against the table, against a paper. Not even a relevant paper probably. You are losing your goddamn mind. You rest your forehead against the table.

"Oh Eve. It's not so important now. Tell me about the kill. Tell me how I am supposed to do it."

"You already know. You know that part." You mumble this into the woodgrain.

"I've forgotten. Tell me again."

And how the hell are you supposed to make sure everything goes as planned if she won't fucking cooperate? You need her. You need her expertise. You can't look at these buildings and streets and see how it goes right. You only see everything going wrong. And as much as you want to kill her right now, you don't want to _get her killed_. So you call the only person who might be able to help.

"I can't help you." And why does he sound so fucking pleased with himself?

"She won't listen. Well she will listen, but I have no idea what she actually plans on doing."

"Oh no, yes, that is always a surprise."

"Then what the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck am I here if not to- to try and, I don't know, find that out?"

"She will do her job. If you could keep her safe, in line, that would be good."

"And how am I supposed to do that? How did you do that?"

"Hmmm. You know, I think she always did just whatever she wanted to do? I don't think I ever kept her in line at all really. You could try using your tits?"

"Oh fuck off."

He is laughing at you when you hang up on him. But you end up thinking about it anyways. Because you are desperate. And you are very comfortable in a hot bath and Villanelle hasn't barged in so you have a rare moment to yourself for contemplation.

You _could_ use your tits. Probably.

It isn't something you've done very much in your life, use your body to get something. But you know Villanelle desires you. You know she is doing this deliberately, driving you crazy, keeping you up at night. You don't even know how to be seductive. But if you could figure it out she would probably respond. Tit-for-tat.

Maybe you could touch her? Just, on her thigh, or maybe her hand. You find yourself rubbing your own thigh as you think of hers. Would she pull away? Would she even be surprised?

When Villanelle slams the door open you barely startle. You must be getting used to it. You do grab the sides of the tub, getting your hands away from your thighs.

"Yes?"

"Oh! Sorry I didn't know you were in here. I was just bringing in fresh towels." Her eyes are alight with mischief and she is hugging a gigantic terry cloth towel to her chest. She waves the towel at you then sets it on stool next to the door. "Having a nice bath?"

You stare at her for a moment. "I _was_." She smiles at you and shrugs her shoulders. And you are mad, but mostly tired.

What the hell. 

You take a deep breath, push yourself up and out of the water, and fuck it's cold. You feel awkward just standing there but she isn't smiling anymore. You carefully step out of the tub, looking away from Villanelle to watch your footing. The last thing you need is to slip and fall on your ass while trying to- while trying whatever the fuck you are trying. You don't even know. You find yourself laughing a little bit. You are so _angry_. Now that you are standing naked and cold on the wet tile floor, you are exhausted but so angry. Just so so angry.

And she is looking at you. At all of you. She isn't smiling, but that's not enough. You want her as off-balance as you are. You take a step forward. When she doesn't move, and she doesn't, hasn't moved, you take another. And that is all it takes to be standing in front of her.

"Villanelle." She hasn't met your eyes since you left the tub. You are so close you can see she is breathing hard, but she looks like she might run if you try to touch her. You are close enough to touch her. So you do.

You gently grasp her chin, tilting it up with your thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet your eyes.

" _Which. window._ " You linger on each syllable out and you watch her.

She stares for a long time, eyes wide and searching. Then, with a choked voice you've never heard before she answers. "The northernmost. The stairwell corridor."

"Hmm." You rub a thumb across her chin. "Why that one?"

"It will have the best view." 

You reach over to the stool, grab the towel and wrap it around yourself.

"Okay." 

You walk around her and she doesn't move. 

You walk through the landing into your room and she doesn't follow. 

You close the door, lean against it, and you breathe.

\---------------

You are in bed perusing the mysterious travel book when Villanelle is barging in again.

"I know what you are doing Eve."

"Oh?" You spare her a glance, but decide to keep paying attention to your book. It will piss her off.

"Yes. You are very obvious."

"Did you need something Villanelle?" You turn the page. Just for show. You won’t be able to take in a single word while she is in the room. But she isn't used to you ignoring her. You can feel the frustration rolling off of her already.

You don't even try to hide your smile.

She blows a raspberry and plants her hands on her hips. "Nooo. Did _you_?" She is loud and whining and about one second away from stomping her foot in protest.

"No I'm fine. Thank you though." You turn the page again. 

She slams the door on her way out.

\---------------

For the first time since Villanelle's return you get an uninterrupted night of sleep. The sun peeking through the blinds is what gently wakes you, and you have never felt so refreshed.

When you sleepily make your way into the landing Villanelle is waiting for you on the couch. She is decidedly not looking at you but she has the notes layed out and what looks like a carafe of coffee on the table.

You shimmy your way into the bathroom and close the door. This isn't quite what you expected. You get as far as dropping your pajama bottoms and slamming your ass on the toilet before there are three hard knocks on the door.

"Eve?" She is yelling at you, _through_ the door.

"Um, yeah?"

"Will you come sit with me? When you are finished?"

"Oh um, yeah. Yes. Yeah."

"Okay."

And what. the. hell.

You hear her walk away, but you have to concentrate on relaxing for a second before you can pee. And even after you are done you sit on the toilet for a minute. Because what the hell. What are you walking into out there?

You flush the toilet. Wash your hands. You stare at your reflection for a bit.

You have no idea. But she has coffee.

So.

When you exit the bathroom you can see Villanelle is back at her seat on the couch. You make your way around and instead of sitting on the floor across from her you take the seat to her left, in front of the coffee.

You see she's already poured a mug. You gesture to it. "For me?" She nods her head yes. "Thanks. God I slept like the dead. I slept really well." She is still not looking at you, but now you are getting a good look at her. She does not seem comfortable at all. You bring the mug up to your mouth, blow on it. "Good morning." No response.

You take a sip and it's perfect. It is so good and you don't even mean to moan but then Villanelle is _yelling_ , "OKAY! What are you _doing_?!", and she has a _knife_. "I do _not_ know what you are doing! I don't know." 

She is holding a switchblade and _where_ did that come from? As far as you can tell she is wearing just a robe.

But she has a knife and you feel real fear coil in your gut for the first time in a while. Not just a jolt of surprise, or a swimming doubt in the back of your mind.

You very slowly set your mug down on the table. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are! You are sitting next to me? You are moaning?" She points at you accusingly with the blade. "You touched my face!" She takes a deep breath. Then her body seems to wilt into exaggerated sadness, complete with pouting face and hunched shoulders. “What are you doing? Are you going to try and stab me? Because do not do that Eve. I will have to kill you and it will ruin all of our fun."

"I'm not- oh my god, I'm not trying to _stab_ you." And this is so absurd, you can't help but laugh, and this seems to upset her more and that just makes this more ridiculous and now you can't _stop_ laughing.

"What is so funny, why is this funny?"

"Because, oh my fuck, because." You take a few deep breaths, try to get your breathing under control. "Because." You turn your body to face her. She is still on the other side of the couch gripping the knife in one hand, the back of the couch in the other. She doesn't want to hurt you. She thinks you are trying to hurt her. Suddenly it isn't so funny anymore. You sigh. "I don't want to stab you. Or kill you. Do you believe me?"

She looks you up and down for a moment, seems decide you are telling the truth and relaxes. "Yes. But then what are you doing?"

"I was sitting here to get coffee. I was enjoying my coffee. A little too much I guess." And you shrug, because you clearly freaked her out last night with the bath thing, but you didn't actually intend any of this, this morning.

"And last night? When you were naked and touching me?"

"Wow, um. That is _not_ how I would describe that." She raises her eyebrows at you. "Well, I mean. Okay, fine. That is technically true. But I- So here's the thing. I phoned Konstantin."

"Konstantin."

"Yes, I wanted to know how he- Well, I wanted some advice. And he was joking but-"

"Advice."

"Yes! And he was being a dick. And he said 'have you tried using your tits'" You use air quotes and the most obnoxious approximation of his voice imaginable but that doesn't distract Villanelle, who seems to have completely forgotten how mad with you she was a moment before. Because she has moved right up next to you.

"Oh."

"Yeah. I have no idea what I'm doing here, clearly. And you are driving me crazy. I can't be held accountable."

"You were using your tits."

"Uh, yeah. Yes. Which you mistook for a _threat_. Or something. Which is just so- Let's just forget this ever happened." You gesture to the table. "Can we just work? I don't want to stab you. I just want to work."

Villanelle folds the knife and sets it on the table. She leans back against the couch and she folds her hands in her lap but you can feel her thigh on your thigh.

"It’s forgotten.” You look at her and you probably look as doubtful as you feel, but she looks peaceful and finally finally focussed. ”Okay so where were we?"

"We still need to decide on a location for the locker. A few you said?"

She nods her head. "It's good to be prepared."

You lean towards the table, start shuffling through some papers. "I put together a potential list, but I want you to tell me how viable they are. If there are better options out there I want to use them, but I want to know how you choose these sorts of things."

"Mm. No."

You stop shuffling and look at her, bewildered. "What do you mean? I haven't even shown you the list."

"I'm not going to look at it." She’s back to playful. Which is relieving but also frustrating.

"And why not?"

She raises her eyebrows at you and very pointedly leans over and stares straight down your top.

"Oh fuck off!" And you _shove_ her, which, holy shit, the moment you do you freeze. But she is laughing. And she leans up against you, puts her head on your shoulder, like you are just old friends. Like she wasn't just brandishing a knife at you.

"I won't take it as a threat. If you want to show me your tits."

"Fuck off." You want to be yelling at her more, but it comes out as more of a mumble.

“I think I would enjoy it more, now that I know you are not planning to stab me.”


	6. What Cannot Be Said Will Be Wept

You have lived with this obsession for a long time. It hasn't always had such a definitive shape, such a narrow focus. Still. You are no stranger to it's sneaking tendrils. But now, they are no longer violently ripping away at your life. And this obsession, this focus, is starting to feel like an altogether different beast.  
  
Especially at night, when you've sequestered yourself in your small room, when you sit at your small desk and you soak in the notes from the day. You trace the lines and curves of her handwriting, little jots here and there, beside a newspaper clipping, on a sticky note. A mustache drawn in pencil over a smudgy black and white picture.  
  
This isn't usually how she prepares, she told you.  
  
"How is it different?"  
  
"Things won't happen like this. Little things will change."  
  
"Yes. I know! It could rain. He could be sick." You tick off on your fingers, mimicing her tone as she has told you before again and again. And for once she is rolling her eyes at you, and flipping you off. "How do you make sure you can do your job then? How do you do things differently?"  
  
"I will show you, but let's do it this way now. I want to see what your first instincts are, how you would imagine this working."  
  
"Isn't that what we've been doing?"  
  
"No I mean, this" She gestures between the two of you. "I want to know how you want this to work."  
  
Later, when you are laying in your bed, you realize a calm has settled over you. Your door doesn't swing open anymore, but your heart beats faster when you hear her footsteps across the hall. And it's not so bad. Not a bad feeling.  
  
You sleep well at night.  
  
\----------------  
  
The questions that eat at you, would eat at you, are actually being answered. The ones you are willing to ask anyways.

  
"Okay why did you kill your neighbor? I can't figure it out." You are both in the kitchen again. She is putting together a jigsaw puzzle on the table. You are sitting across from her, watching.  
  
"I did not kill Sebastion. Sebastion was my boyfriend. He was snooping and got himself killed."

"Boyfriend?"  
  
"Mmhm. Just as well. Konstantin wanted me to take care of him."  
  
"And you went out with him? Like on dates? What did you guys do?"  
  
"Just normal things." She shrugs her shoulders and continues to slide pieces around.  
  
And you fail to find any reason why any of that makes sense.  
  
So you ask. " _Why_?"  
  
She looks up at you then, and laughs and shrugs again, returning to her puzzle.  
  
And you return to yours.  
  
Because that is what she is. She is your puzzle. Each answer she gives you is enticing on its own but when you unbox it there are just more questions inside. You look forward to the quiet moments, when work is put away and you can shift your focus to her and her alone. And when you are honest with yourself you can admit you are very much enjoying yourself.  
  
\----------------  
  
Just when you feel like you've found a groove together, she is packing, and you are pacing, and she is looking at you like you are just as ridiculous as you are.  
  
"You could come with me? So you will not worry?"  
  
You stop your pacing to look at her and she is smiling and teasing but absolutely serious.  
  
You could do. But.  
  
"No. I don't think so."  
  
"Next time?" And her raised eyebrow is all Villanelle.  
  
In fact, she _is_ all Villanelle right now, brimming with deadly energy. She could cut you with it, is cutting you with it, just standing so close. But all the same you want to go. You want to see everything, feel everything. You _are_ worried. But more for yourself than for her. So not yet.  
  
But.  
  
Next time? Oh lord.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
And she is smiling at you, and she is out the door, and she is gone.  
  
\----------------  
  
You are sitting in Konstantin's chair, the one he you saw him sit in once. You don't make a habit of sitting in it, you've never seen Villanelle sitting in it, so it is his. You are drinking the whiskey he gave you, wearing the coat he gave you, trying desperately to, possess his spirit? Read his mind remotely? Fuck all if you know. Anything but actually calling him. Because you are one hundred percent sure Villanelle, the absolute asshole, told him about your- the thing in the bathroom. And while you'd love to know what the hell you are supposed to be doing right now...  
  
Your cell phone rings in your pocket. You claw it out half hoping it's Villanelle, but what could she need so soon? Its Konstantin's name that greets you.  
  
"Konstantin."  
  
"Eve. How are things? How do you like having the place to yourself?"  
  
You glance at the clock in the kitchen. "It has been a quiet forty-five minutes." And you have to laugh, because you've gone a bit mad. But you are glad he's called. "What now?"  
  
"We wait."  
  
\----------------  
  
You've never been good at waiting, so you go over in your head what you know. You know she is enroute to a train station. Her ticket has Budapest as a destination, but the train has a stop in Prague. And in Prague, under a different name from the ticket to Budapest, there is a hotel reservation for two nights. She'll arrive tonight, work tomorrow, and stay in Prague for one more night.  
  
This was the only detail you two flat-out disagreed on. You wanted her out, immediately. Another train to Zagreb, or a more direct flight. In fact you booked both, and she knows it. But.  
  
She is to call you from the train on a burner. Call you from the hotel. Call you from a different burner after, confirmation of a job well done. Then there is to be radio silence. She insists.  
  
"Eve what is the problem? You will know when it is done, but I am not running from Prague. I like Prague. I like the women in Prague." She wiggles her eyebrows at this. "Are you jealous? Come with me then. I am so excited to do this thing with you, but I'd also like to fuck you."  
  
And you never know what to say to that. She has started to share this sentiment with you quite often after the _incident_. Politely making herself very clear. Your current and only tactic has been avoidance.  
  
"While our target is not exactly high profile... the security response will be worth avoiding. Your confidence is _thrilling_ , but why take the risk?"  
  
"I'm going to find a woman, preferably with your hair, and I'm going to fuck her. Do you want me to call you and tell you about it?"  
  
"No! God no!"  
  
"So I won't call. A second night in Prague then. You are so jealous, it is not good for you."  
  
\----------------  
  
You are in bed, pretending to read when she calls the first time.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Hello Eve." Her tone is reproachful, as if the niceties are important to her in these types of situations. "Thought I'd call to say hello. Just past Frankfurt. I popped out for a bit of shopping there."  
  
"Frankfurt. Good. Okay. The railway website hasn't shown your ticket being scanned at all."  
  
"You sound so tense. Interrail's website is shit. Everything is fine. Oh!" You hear her rustling around. "I got you something!"  
  
"Jesus. You are not on holiday."  
  
"Um. Yes I am. You should have come. This private car is nice. I've never been in a scenery car, the whole wall is a window and stretches to the ceiling. It is raining, but it is lovely."  
  
"I know. I booked it."  
  
"Well thank you it is very nice. And there is so much room. We could have had good sex in here."  
  
"Oh god."  
  
"I've bought you some beautiful soaps. You can enjoy them and think of me."  
  
\----------------  
  
The second time she calls you are fast asleep.  
  
You grab the phone off the nightstand out of pure instinct. "What? What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing? Nothing is wrong? I've just checked in to the hotel."  
  
"Oh. Good." You let out a breath, glance at the clock. "You're a bit late."  
  
"Nothing to worry about. Typical train delays. Also I grabbed a quick bite. Were you sleeping?"  
  
"I guess. I didn't intend to fall asleep."  
  
"Hmm. Are you in bed? What are you wearing?"  
  
You roll your eyes. "Yes I am in bed. And absolutely nothing."  
  
" _Really_ "  
  
"No not really." You hear a huff and it makes you smile. "Are you going to bed soon? You have an early morning."  
  
"Yes, but first I'm going to masturbate about you."  
  
"Of course you are."  
  
"I should wake you up more often. You are fun when you are only half awake."  
  
\----------------  
  
The third time she calls you, you have been waiting.  
  
"Eve." Your name is a harsh inhale. Then you can hear her breathing, shallow and fast.  
  
"Did something go wrong?" The call is early. Only by a bit but it makes you nervous. You've come to expect a certain lack of punctuality.  
  
"No. I wanted to hear you."  
  
"Oh. Good. I- Where are you? What are you doing?" She was supposed to call from the street. A busy intersection. You don't hear traffic or people or anything.  
  
"Watching him go. He is taking his time, but it is quiet."  
  
"Fuck."  
  
"It is beautiful today. You should have come."  
  
" _Fuck._ "


End file.
